Heroes of the Dust
by october violet
Summary: He is eighteen, an orphan who depends upon the KG for his living. She is sixteen, tormented and abused, just trying to forget her nightmare. TornAshelin.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Remember, people, Torn and Ashelin are not in their normal character because this is six years before Jak 2 and in those six years lots will happen to alter their personalities and the way they relate to people. Really has nothing to do with Jak 2, just TornAshelin because I luv that pairing and hardly anyone writes it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Obviously. If I did I would be out making money off of it.

The dingy brown water of the small oases in the Wasteland gave off a rank stench of death and rotting plants that filled the entire region and made the air seem heavy. No one normally went there except the Bahzre, the native desert people, and the Wastelanders, who were tough as nails and had no qualms about facing the terrain. Torn was beginning to wonder why he had taken this mission. His goal was to find a legendary weapon that was rumored to be out here. Supposedly it could only be wielded by one who possessed the Precursor Stone. He had been out here looking for it for three days, and much more of his time had been spent fighting off Metal Heads and looking for clean water than actually trying to find the weapon. For all he knew, it could be buried in the middle of one of the many boulders that were scattered across the land, and then he would never find it.

Suddenly Torn tripped over a rock that protruded from the hot sand. He stumbled, but managed to catch his balance before he fell. He looked at his foot and saw that crimson blood was dripping off it out of the jagged rip in his shoe and staining the sand red where it fell. The wound was not particularly painful, but it would greatly slow him down, especially it he had to run from one of the larger Metal Heads. Swearing, Torn began to bandage the foot. He started to hobble back to the city. There was no point in sticking around out here when he was wounded – it would likely be the death of him. He was injured too much to run well, so his best chance would be to get back to the city while he still could.

Torn noticed the rock he had tripped over, and saw that it was not a rock at all, but a shiny metal disk sticking out of the sand. No wonder it was so sharp; the edges were filed to points. He reached down to pick it up, and it pulled easily out of the sand. The place where it had been filled in immediately with sand. On the disk there was a symbol Torn did not recognize. He was sure he had seen it before, somewhere, but he couldn't think of where.

With a shrug, he stuck it in his bag and continued toward the city in the distance.

As the tall, forboding gates drew nearer, he became increasingly aware of someone watching him. He could almost hear footsteps on the ground. Every time he turned to look, though, there was no one there, and the sun reflected on the sand burned his eyes so much that even if there had been anyone there, he couldn't possibly have seen them.

Without the slightest warning a laser bullet shot past him an inch from his head. "Holy shit!" he yelled, whipping out his own gun and swiveling around.

He couldn't see the shooter; the person was behind a rock. Torn was fairly sure, however, that it was not a Metal Head, because they weren't smart enough to be able to aim that well. They had to resort to machine guns that they could whip around until they met their target.

Torn ducked behind a rock, barely managing to dodge a second shot. He tried to fire back, but this shot seemed to come from a different direction and he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Just as he fired a shot that was supposed to go where the first bullet had come from, someone grabbed him from behind. The carefully aimed shot went askew and hit a rock before reflecting back at him. The person who had a hold on him had a strong grip as the person pinned his arms behind his back with one hand and deftly stole his gun with the other. Whoever it was had been well trained. "Don't move," a cool female voice hissed in his ear. He felt his own gun being pressed against his head. "Are you one of the Bahzre?" the woman asked.

"No," Torn said carefully. "I work for Baron Praxis, in Haven City."

"Oh." Torn felt the woman relaxed, and although she didn't lessen her painful grip on his arms, she lowered the gun. "Are you going to the city now?"

"That depends," Torn said, "on if I can stop whoever's firing at me, and also if you let go of me. But we don't really have time for idle chat, I'm being shot at!"

Another shot whizzed above their heads as the woman said, "They're shooting at me, they don't care about you." The woman let go of Torn, and he turned around to face her.

Torn did not believe in love at first sight. Most would say that Torn, with the way his life had gone, did not believe in love at all. Either was, he felt something twinge within his heart as he took in the woman's clear smooth features and haunting eyes, and her hair that curled and sprang like a red cloud around her head.

"Are you one of the Krimzon Guard?" she asked urgently. Torn nodded.

"Then I need you to escort me to the city. I was a prisoner of the Bahzre, but I'll explain that later. I escaped, and they're after me now, but it is imperative that I get to the city safely," she said.

"Alright," Torn said dubiously. He didn't completely trust her, but it appeared she would be coming along with him whether he liked it or not. He wasn't pleased with the prospect of this because the girl was strong but even so she would probably slow him down, and since he was already injured that was the last thing that he needed.

Another shot rang out, this one blowing to bits the rock that sheltered them and leaving them exposed and pelted with bits of rock. Torn took three quick shots at the rock the other bullets were coming from behind, and then dove behind another rock, with the girl right behind him.

He heard the shattering of a rock, and a sharp yelp of pain as one of his shots hit its mark. Cautiously he peaked out from behind the boulder. One man lay on the ground, and another was bent half over him, seemingly oblivious to Torn's presence as he inched toward them. A gun lay on the sand near them, and it appeared to be the only one the two desert men possessed.

The man that was not wounded looked up and saw Torn, who had his gun aimed at the man's head. The Bahzre's eyes were full of fear as he begged, "Please, spare me. We meant you no harm. We were sent to catch the Child of Fire. The Leader sent us."

Torn did not lower his gun. "Who is the Child of Fire?" he asked.

"The girl! The one who escaped! She was born of fire and she is to die by fire, tomorrow at first light!" he cried, pointing to the woman who had come creeping up behind Torn. The desert man continued, "If I return without her, the Leader will kill me!"

"Don't listen to him! I know these people," the young woman said coldly to Torn. She walked over to the gun the injured man had dropped, never taking her eyes off the one who was still pleading for his life. She pointed it at the man, who was beginning to stand up. "Move and I'll blow your head to pieces," she snarled.

With lightening speed, the desert man whipped out a knife and lunged at the woman. She fired at single quick, well-aimed shot, then jumped back just in time. The knife didn't touch her, but the man lay on the ground, his head a bloody mess, dead.

She knelt down beside the dead man and checked him for more weapons, her face expressionless. She found a silver gun and slipped it quietly into the pocket of her pants. Then she stood and went over to Torn. "I'm Ashelin. I suppose this wasn't a very good introduction," she said, motioning toward the two dead men. Torn agreed completely, but didn't say so, only muttered, "I'm Torn."

Ashelin nodded, then said, "We'd better be going; there will be more Bahzre coming after me, I'm sure." Without a word to Torn, she turned and headed toward the city in the distance.

Torn followed her silently. He was puzzled. In all his years he had never met a woman like Ashelin. The ladies of Haven's court, wives of rich nobles, were women who never left their house except to accompany their husbands to court events. Women of the poorer classes were in two groups: those who found a good man to marry and tried to raise a successful family despite the bad environment, and the majority, sluts who never married and stood on street corners, who seldom had a real home but often bore a noble man several illegitimate children. Ashelin fitted neither of these two groups; she was in a class all her own.

"Are you from Haven City?" he asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I was," she said evasively. He decided not to try and talk to her again.

Night fell, it seemed, slower than usual. They walked while it was still dark for awhile, and didn't stop until about nine o clock. There was a full moon, so plenty of light was shed upon them as they set up camp. It was too much of a risk to start a fire, so they shared some of Torn's cold food. Although there were lots of rock farther out in the Wasteland, now the landscape was barren in all but one direction, where a lone pile of boulders stood, so a fire would be so conspicuous it would give them away.

The night was very cold, and with one blanket for each person it was all in all very uncomfortable. Though Ashelin was several feet away from him, Torn felt her eyes upon him, and couldn't help thinking that perhaps she had a bit of a "thing" for him.

The morning dawned dusty and hot. Dust floated in the air and made breathing difficult. "Come on," Torn said to Ashelin. "A dust storm is on the way and I sure as hell don't want to be around when it hits."

"How much longer until we reach the city?" she asked, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun and looking at the city.

"I'd guess about a six-hour walk. I hope we'll make it by noon." He glanced nervously at the cloud of dust that was rapidly forming on the horizon. "If we don't wind up in the middle of that storm, though. We should've gone on longer last night."

The two of them walked as fast as they could. The dust became thicker, and the stifling cloud came upon them faster than Torn had predicted.

"There's a big pile of rocks over there," he directed to Ashelin. "We'll have to get behind them and wait out the storm."

"I can't see it!" Ashelin had to shout over the roaring wind; she breathed in dust and coughed. She felt Torn grab her hand, and blindly she followed him, trying not to breathe in dust or let it get in her eyes.

There was a hollow in the pile of rocks, barely big enough for two people. Torn wet a piece of cloth and handed it to Ashelin, who put it over her mouth to try and filter the dust through. Then he made one for himself and made sure the canteen was tightly shut so dust would not get into their water and turn it into mud.

Neither of them knew how long they waited there while the dust whipped around them and caked them with Wasteland grit. It could have been an hour or it could have been three, but at last the dust began to settle and the wind ceased its raging. Ashelin was the first to step out of the hollow in the rocks, and she brushed herself off. Looking toward the city, she gasped in horror.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The plot, I OWN IT. Nothing else though.

"Oh my god," Ashelin breathed. "Look at that!"

Torn crawled out of the crevice between the rocks and stood next to her, brushing grit off of his weather-beaten clothes and out of his hair and eyes. He shielded his eyes from the glaring sun and looked where she pointed. His heart sank.

The entrance to the city, the grand metal gates that Baron Praxis was so proud of, were completely buried by sand. Only the very top of the city wall showed up. There was no way those gates would open for a long time.

He groaned inwardly. Now how would they get back to the city? And they were rapidly running out of water, and there was so little food left…

Ashelin noticed the look on his face. "Chill out," she said. "I know how we can get back into the city." Then she added, "But it'll take a couple of days, maybe a week."

"We don't have much water left," Torn said, still in shock over the buried city gates.

"I know where we can get some. It's relatively clean."

He looked at her strangely. "How do you know? You say you were a captive of the Bahzre, but they never roam this close to the city. They know we'd wipe them out."

She shrugged. "I lived out here for three years before I was with the Bahzre." She laughed dryly. "I was out here with my sister Natasha and our trainer in combat, Wendel. Supposedly we were to be learning survival skills and hand-to-hand combat."

"Umm… okay," Torn said cautiously. This was the first time she had offered any information about her past, and he was reluctant to believe her since her story appeared to have some holes in it.

"C'mon," Ashelin said. "We should get to the place with the water before nightfall, and then tomorrow we can head toward the city." She picked up the bag that contained their remaining food from where Torn had dropped it. She began to head west.

It was nearly nightfall when the two of them reached the oasis that Ashelin had told him about. It was in a ravine in the center of a massive structure of rocks, and Torn doubted anyone could find it if they didn't already have some idea where it was. It was extremely well hidden, a tiny pocket of green within such a vast dry land.

Sure enough, small springs ran cold and clear out of a rock. They both drank deeply, and Torn filled the canteens. "We'd better camp here tonight," he said, looking at the sky, which was rapidly darkening and showing orange and pink.

Ashelin glanced back at him. "We can't afford to stop. I'm needed in the city as soon as possible. They'll send more Bahzre warriors after me, and since they need me there too, I'd just as soon get as far away from them as possible, considering they want to kill me and in Haven I'll be welcomed."

"Y'know, I don't really think you'll be welcomed. Usually delegates from settlements around the city are arrested for spying, and interrogated until they are of no more use. Then they just … disappear," Torn said.

"Oh, I assure you, they sent for me and they have yet to see how much use I can be to them. I was sent for two years ago, and Wendel tore up the letter, but then when I was being interrogated in the Bahzre prison, this man came in saying he had intercepted a message from the city asking for me. I knew from that day that I had to get to the city and tell them what was going on out here." Her face was troubled. "There's more happening than you know. Halland and the other Bahzre leaders have sold their souls to some darkness in exchange for the freedom of the Bahzre people and their deliverance from banishment to the Wasteland."

Torn looked skeptical, and set down his pack. "We're camping here," he said firmly.

"As you wish, Commander," she snarled. "But when we've got the Bahzre on our asses and we're trying to fight them off, remember I said we should keep going. It's not even sundown." She sat down and would not take the food he offered her. She kept glancing toward the horizon. "This is not a good idea."

"Ashe," Torn began.

"Don't call me Ashe," she snapped.

"Okay, chill out," he said. "But… we're not going to have to climb up that cliff up there, are we?" He gestured toward the sheer wall of rock that was in front of them.

She glanced at him. "Yeah, we do. Why?"

He looked nervous. "I… don't like heights too much…"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? That is the last thing I need right now."

He shrugged apologetically. "Can't help it. I lived on the tops of apartment buildings when I was little. One time my cousin was up there with me and he fell off. I tried to catch him, but he died. I've hated high places ever since, except flying. I don't mind flying," he added, as if to reassure himself that he was not completely weak for having admitted that he was afraid of heights.

"Oh well," Ashelin said. "I trust you can handle yourself on the cliff anyway?"

"Yeah."

They trudged along in silence, Torn watching as the shadow of the cliff drew nearer and nearer until finally they were within its darkness and the sun stopped oppressing them. Now it was only a quarter of a mile until they reached the cliff, he noted.

"Now listen, this is an easy cliff. Buck up and climb it. There's practically a straight path to the top; Metal Heads have been using it for aeons. Look for footholds and follow me." They had reached the bottom of the cliff. Ashelin slipped her foot into a groove in the rocks.

"This is dangerous… can't we find another route?"

She turned to glare at him. "Do you want to stay out here and die by hunger, thirst, or Bahzre? I sure as hell don't. If you want to stay, then stay. I have no problem with it. But make up your mind now because I'm climbing this and not waiting for you."

He made up his mind and began to follow her up the cliff, still wondering how he had just managed to act childish enough for her to treat him like a child. Ashelin too was having her doubts, wondering if perhaps she could have been a little more compassionate. But for goodness sakes, he was a grown man, probably older than her. He should have learned long ago in training that fears were death for a Guard. And the only way he was going to listen to her was if she was sure of herself.

"Ashelin, hang on a second. I can't jump that. There's no way anyone could jump across that." The shouted words echoed over the rocky chasm as Torn pointed to a large gap between two rocks. Ashelin had just leapt across it and was waiting for him on the other side.

"I just did," Ashelin pointed out. "Therefore someone can."

He rolled his eyes. "I know that. What I meant was _I_ can't."

"You can," she said simply. "Now do it."

"I'll…" he searched for a way out. He looked up and saw, very faintly, the outlines of what were once footholds. They led to a ledge above, which was on the main path the two of them had been taking. "I'll take that way," he said triumphantly.

"I don't know…" Ashelin murmured, looking at the footholds. "That looks like it could crumble away any second."

"It won't," Torn reassured her, anxious to prove himself to this woman who seemed to always make him feel stupid. "I'll be fine."

He began to slowly make his way up the side of the cliff. Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down… The words pounded in his head, urging him on. Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in.

"Don't look down," he muttered, gripping the handhold tighter.

Ashelin was going up the cliff around him on sturdier handholds and footholds, and she stopped above him on a small ledge. "What did you say?" she asked.

"Noth-" Torn began. At that moment the rock beneath his feet went tumbling to the ground. He slipped and was left dangling by one hand from the great height.

"Ashe," he tried to croak, but no words escaped his dry lips. "Ashe!" He rasped louder this time, and she turned her head toward him.

"By the Precursors," she screeched, throwing herself stomach-down on the rocky ledge. She reached one bare arm down toward him. It was in easy reach, but Torn would not take advantage of the opportunity. "You can't hold me," he insisted. "We'll both fall. I'm too heavy."

"How much do you want to bet that I can lift you up onto this ledge? Take my hand and let me help you!" she yelled.

Against his better judgment, Torn reached his hand as far up as she could. Quicker than the blink of an eye, he found himself upon the ledge with her. He stood, his knees weak, his heart full of gratitude. "Thanks," he said grudgingly. "But you may just be the death of me yet."

She threw back her head and laughed. "I was thinking the exact same thing about you."

He shook his head. "Well… let's get off the cliff here, before we get into anymore life or death situations."

Ashelin shrugged. "I don't know… that's what makes it exciting."

"No… what would be exciting would be getting out of the sun somewhere. I'm baking out here." He looked up. "Thank the Precursors we don't have far to go."

The top of the cliff was a flat stone mountain. The sun was even hotter up here, and there was no shelter whatsoever. "So… where do we go now?" Torn asked, unsure of where they were.

Ashelin surveyed their surroundings. "I think the stairs ought to be… over there," she said, pointing to the place where they could see the top of a very tall tree peeking up over the rocks. "That should lead into Haven Forest. Then we can make our way into the Precursor Mountain, and from there, the city."

"Okay." Torn followed her to the other side of the narrow cliff. He saw, too his surprise, a stone staircase leading down from the cliff. The rocky wall was shorter on this side, much shorter. Torn estimated it was about twenty feet to the bottom.

"Welcome," Ashelin said dramatically, "to the place where most of the kids in Haven used to hang out before the security walls were built."

Torn followed her closely, unsure of what he would find in this part of the forest he had never seen. Metal Heads had recently overrun the place, and a battle was not what he wanted to deal with right now. It could mean death for them both.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, I own my clothes.

The cliff down the other side was short and easy to climb. At the bottom, Torn collapsed gratefully onto the soft grass, something he hadn't felt for a long time. Ashelin was standing up, surveying the terrain. "I don't think there's any Metal Heads around," she said finally. "We've been lucky so far, but let's not push it. We'd better get going. We'll be safe as soon as we get on the Precursor Mountain."

"Oh," Torn groaned. "I can't wait to get back to the city."

"Not big on out-of-city missions, I see," Ashelin commented dryly.

"It took you this long to figure that out?"

She decided this comment was not worthy of an answer. "Come on, we've got a long way to go."

"We do not," Torn protested wearily. "This is Haven Forest. It's only a mile wide."

"But I want to get to the city before dark. Unless you want to stay and be Metal meat." She started walking, leaving him no choice but to follow.

"Okay, okay," he muttered grudgingly, following her. "So, what exactly do you mean by saying that this forest was a clubhouse type thing for kids from Haven? Even before the security walls were put up, it was still illegal to leave."

She shrugged. "I never said it was legal, I just said we came here. Anyone with a driver's licencse could drive out here. Kids in Krimzon Guard Training got to drive at age twelve, so we just car-pooled out here with whoever couldn't drive. It's not that hard to leave the city even with the security walls. If you have a police cruiser, the sentry guards won't even question you."

"Oh. Guess I missed out on that particular adventure when I was a kid."

"It was mostly children of nobles that did it. Anyone else really would have a lot of trouble getting into any type of city section that had an exit, and there was no way they could get a Hellcat or anything. Plus if they got caught they'd get killed. But us, well, we learned bribery form our parents, and we could get ourselves out of most situations." She realized she'd said too much. She didn't want him knowing anything about her past, and now he knew a lot.

"You never said you were from a noble family," Torn said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Who are your parents?"

"My parents are dead," Ashelin said harshly. "My mother was in the Guard. She got shot down in a battle with the Metal Heads, and she died in the hospital. My father... well, my father's always been dead, as far back as I can remember." This was the truth; ever since her father had sent her mother to the front lines in that horrible battle, she had considered him dead. She stopped caring and started resisting him. Natasha had helped. That was why we were sent to the Wasteland with Wendel. We were to die out there, she thought. Because we knew he arranged our mother's death. Because she knew too much, and now we did too.

"What was that?" Torn said suddenly.

"I don't know, I didn't hear --"

The Metal Heads lunged at them out of nowhere, five huge, hulking creatures, fangs dripping with black blood, eyes dialated. Torn whipped out his gun and defended the two of them as best he could.

It took him six shots to fell one of the huge beasts. "This won't work," he muttered, looking towards his gun, knowing he was almost out of ammunition.

The other four beasts were attacking Ashelin, all at the same time. They seemed to know she wasn't as well-armed as Torn was. She was doing a good job of dodging their attacks and skirting out of the way just in time, but the shots form her two small guns barely seemed to scrath their plated armor.

An ill-timed jump on Ashelin's part led her right in front of a Metal Head, who took the opportunity to slash at her with its razor-sharp claws. It left three long gashed across the front of her exposed stomach. She groaned in pain and leapt out of the way just before the monster slammed its fist at the side of her head. Blood poured from her wound onto the grass below. "Ashelin! Run to the mountain!" Torn yelled.

"I... can't go that far," she called, doubling over as a piercing wave of agony overtook her. She fell to the ground.

In delight, the Metal Heads bounded in for the kill. "NOOOO!" Torn screamed, launching himself into their midst, feeling the rage at these monsters boil over within him. Abandoning his gun, he jumped into the circle of enemies and , flailing his fists wildly, and began to fight them all off.

From outside the pounding of his own heartbeat and the roar of the adrenaline rush, he dimly heard Ashelin calling him. He didn't answer, couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, and for a moment he was all arms and legs, wild kicks and punches and moves he hadn't known he could perform. At last the final Metal Head fell, and there Torn stood, among the bodies of his enemies, breathing heavily, until Ashelin got to her feet beside him and said, "Many more of them will come soon. I guess I was wrong about there not being any around. It's my fault. I should've listened harder, and heard them."

"Don't be sorry; there's no way you could have known. Now let's get to the mountain; it's only a little ways." This was true; there was nothing but a hill separating them from the entrance to the mountain.

Torn helped her walk as much as she would let him. It was important to her to do things herself, he realized, but it was imperative that she not lose any more blood. He didn't have anything to stop the blood with, and he couldn't let her die... She was embarrassed at being helped; embarrassed that she had made the mistake that led to her getting injured.

At last it was in sight; a small platform of glowing Precursor metal, just waitng for someone to get on it and go to the mountain and the waiting warp gate. They squeezed onto the one-person platform together. Ashelin wavered in place, threatening to topple off into the black void below. Torn grabbed her shoulders to keep her steady, and picked her up as she lost consciousness from blood loss. "You'll be okay," he whispered to her in a quavering voice. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince – Ashelin or himself.

Granger Harlem's duty was at an end for today. He was already angry that he was called out for street patrol in the Agricultural Section. He was high enough up in KG ranking that he should have been worth more than city patrols and stopping petty crimes. "It was a mistake in the records," he kept trying to convince himself. "This is a one-time thing; I'm not going down in ranks." But he had a sickening feeling that he was rapidly going down on the Baron's list.

He was glad he could go home now and sleep away his worry. He was tearing himself apart, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had been in the Guard for nearly fifteen years, since it first started, and he had rapidly advanced. The Baron had been considering making him the commander, but he always backed down and let Erol keep the job. Granger was high up and of noble birth, and for the last four or so years he had had good missions, missions that other Guards would kill for. This was his first patrol in... He didn't know how long.

He noticed with interest that the door leading to the Precursor Mountain was slowly opening. That's odd, he thought. Two figures emerged from outside the city walls, where no one was ever to go but the Krimzon Guards. Wait -- one of them was a Krimzon Guard. The Guard began waving frantically at him. Granger pulled up next to him and saw that he was carrying a young woman who was badly injured and bleeding a lot. "Yeah?" he said.

"This girl's badly hurt. You need to take her to a hospital. She's lost a lot of blood." Torn fervently hoped that the Guard would take pity and give them a ride to the hospital.

But the man shook his head. "It'd be against the law to let anyone but a Guard ride in a Hellcat. You can come, but not her." He turned his vehicle around.

"Wait!" Torn called. "She's... she's..." What was she that she needed to be saved? He couldn't think of any reason that would suffice in the Guard's mind.

"Tell him... tell him I'm the Baron's daughter," Ashelin said weakly, her eyes fluttering open and then slowly closed.

"Good idea," Torn whispered. "She's Praxis's daughter!"he yelled to the man's retreating form.

Slowly Granger turned around. "Yeah, right, and I'm the new Commander," he remarked sarcastically.

Torn gave the man his fiercest glare and snarled, "If she dies, the Baron'll kick your ass! Do you want to risk it? Because I can guarantee that she is expected there."

The man hesitated. "Well... all right," he muttered. "Put her in the back."

Gratefully Torn laid Ashelin in the backseat of the zoomer and sat next to her. Her eyes opened and closed wildly, then stayed open. They were dilated and unfocused. "Will you drive faster? She's dying back here!" Torn yelled to the man in the front, choking on his own words and barely managing to say them due to fear for Ashelin's life. He realized that for all the times he had treated her with disdain and acted like she was a burden, he had been falling in love with her nonetheless, and he wouldn't be able to bear it if she died now.

"There's no way I can go faster. This is an older model Hellcat and I've got it on maximum speed." The man's voice seemed far away.

Torn sent a silent prayer to the gods -- if there were gods -- to spare Ashelin's life. He breathed a sigh of relief as the vehicle pulled up in front of Haven's only hospital. "We're almost there," he said to Ashelin.

Torn couldn't stay and wait to see if Ashelin was going to be okay. He had been called to Guard HQ the moment he checked into the city. He knew that when you got summoned to HQ you went there immediately or you died.

The Krimzon Guard at the door told him that Commander Erol wished to speak to him. Torn gulped. Many people were sent before Erol, but it was seldom to be rewarded for anything.

The metal doors slid open and Torn entered the office. He bowed respectfully before the Commander. Erol scowled. "Were you not sent to the Wasteland to look for the Weapon of Mar?"

"Yes sir, I was."

"And did you bring back a woman you met in the desert and let her into the city?"

"I did, sir."

"Why?"

"Sir, she told me that she ws expected in Haven City, and that she had been a captive of the Bahzre and someone called Wendel. Then she requested I accompany her to the city, and I agreed because I had to travel there anyway. We were caught in a dust storm, and the main airlock door into the eastern sector was completely blocked by a sand dune. She knew the layout around the city well, and we got into the city by going through Haven Forest. In the forest we were attacked by a number of large Metal Heads. We weren't well-armed, and she was wounded. We escaped and one of my colleagues in the Guard took us to the hospital. She's in Haven Hospital now," Torn told the man, whose frown was growing deeper. "I don't know if she'll live, sir."

"She'll live," came a voice from behind them. "I've just been to see her." Torn turned around, and to his shock there stood Baron Praxis. Torn bowed as Praxis continued. "The doctors gave say she'll live, and she'll be just fine." He turned to Torn. "My daughter tells me that you saved her life."

Torn's heart skipped a beat. "Your... your daughter?"

"Yes, and she wants to speak to you. You may go now." The Baron indicated toward the door. It was apparent that he wanted to talk to Erol alone, so Torn slipped out the door as quickly as possible, pondering the new information. He had thought Ashelin was joking when she said she was the daughter of Baron Praxis!

"Where's the one who gave them a ride to the hospital?" the Baron roared to Erol.

"He just checked into HQ, Your Excellency," Erol said. "Would you like me to call him in?"

"Yes, do so. I want to have a word with him." A sinister grin twisted the Baron's face. He sank into the chair as Erol posted a comment on the loudspeaker summoning Granger Harlem to the main office.

There was a knock on the door several minutes later. Granger stepped in cautiously, wondering if he was to be punished for letting someone who was not a Krimzon Guard ride in a police cruiser. "Yes, my lord?" he said, bowing before the Baron.

The Baron stood up and drew himself up to his full height. "You idiot!" he shouted to Granger, who was now cowering in fear. "You took my daughter to the hospital because she was gravely wounded, when she was supposed to be DEAD!" With this he began kicking the man in the face repeatedly with his metal, spike-toed boot.

"Aaaaaggghhh! I didn't know that!" Grange screamed, desperately trying to block his face with his hands. There was brutal crunching of bones as his fingers broke one by one, and there was a hideous grating of cartilage when his nose broke. Blood poured from his face as blows from the Baron's fists pounded him into the metal floor. He received a sharp kick to his neck. Granger tried frantically to suck in some air through his crushed windpipe, but slowly he was suffocating. In agony, the man looked to Erol for help. With a smirk, Erol looked away from the unrecognizable face of the mutilated man.

At last the Baron ceased his attack and exited the room with a swish of his cloak. "My lord!" Errol called after him. "Should I call someone to come and get him?" He pointed to the man writhing on the floor, praying to die and end his pain.

"No. Just leave him there." Praxis walked away and never looked back.

Granger thrashed about on the floor one last time, choking on his own blood, and then lay still. With a last glance, Erol hurried out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this is so short. I wanted to end it there. Next one will be longer.

The girl sitting across the table in the bar from Torn was giggling uncontrollably, and her fingers danced on his thigh underneath the table. She had long, purple hair, obviously dyed, and azure eyes. Her skin was fake-tanned to the point where it didn't even look normal, and she had scars on her arms. Despite this, she was pretty, and she smiled at him drunkenly.

"Excuse me." It was the black-haired barmaid.

"Me?" Torn slurred.

"Yeah, you. You with her?" the woman motioned to the girl near Torn – what was her name? He had forgotten. Maja, that was it.

"Um… close enough. Why?" Torn asked.

"Well, you'll have to take her out. We can't have her passing out in here."

Torn sighed. "Yeah… whatever…." He turned to Maja. She was getting up to leave. "Hey, you want a ride home?" he asked.

She shook her head. "….no…I'll… I'm gonna….get there…."

"Heh…" Torn muttered. "You just do that. Fucking ho."

"That wasn't very nice."

Torn jumped and turned around. "Ashelin!" He gasped. "What the hell… shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

She shrugged. "I got released. I tried to call you on your radio, but… I guess you weren't answering it."

He grinned apologetically. "Sorry… I was a bit… preoccupied."

"With your 'fucking ho'?"

"No… I just needed to think… I was just walking around," he explained.

"Oh… well… you want to go walk around some more? And… y'know… talk?" she asked – almost shyly, it seemed.

He stood up. "Gladly. Not like I have anything to do here."

"Then… why were you here in the first place?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing better to do… I thought I'd visit you in the hospital, but then I figured I'd probably better just not bother you so much."

She smiled. "It wouldn't have bothered me. I was bored."

Torn laid a bill on the table and followed her out into the nighttime quiet of the port. "So… what did you want to talk about?"

"I figured… you deserved to know some stuff."

"You THINK?" Torn retorted.

"Don't be childish," she snapped.

"You lied!" he said.

"I just….didn't want to be treated differently."

He looked at her, first with a glare then a softer glance. "But you are different, Baron's child or not."

"No!" she cried. "I'm not!"

He didn't press the subject, but only breathed the night air in deeply as they turned a corner onto a less crowded street. "So… what else do I need to know?"

She shrugged. "Stuff…. About the Bahzre… How old are you?"

"Seventeen… you?" he asked, hoping this might be relevant to whatever she was trying to say.

"Seventeen next month," she shrugged.

"And…?" he asked.

"Well, two years ago, my twin sister Natasha and I were sent out into the desert to be trained for a special section of the Krimzon Guard. We were to be trained personally by a man named Wendel." As she spoke, Ashelin could see it all in her mind.

She and Natasha walked a few feet behind the tall man, only a few years their senior, as they went deeper and deeper into the desert. The sisters giggled and talked quietly, until he turned and glared at them.

"Wendel… kept us there, in the desert, against our will for almost two years. Then, one day, he sold us to the Bahzre for a bag of gold coins. Natasha and I were kept in a Bahzre prison, near death, until at last I managed to escape. Natasha was too weak, and she opted to stay and try to spy on the Bahzre. I ran, and she stayed… it was the day before we were to be executed."

"Why?" Torn asked.

"The Bahzre have always lived in exile in the Wasteland. Their mythology says they are doomed to live there until they can make a suitable sacrifice to their gods. They must sacrifice two girls: the Children of Fire and Ice." Ashelin shivered in spite of herself, but whether it was from chill or fear Torn did not know. "I am the Child of Fire…. Natasha is Ice." A sound, what may have been a stoppered sob, leaked from her throat and sounded like a soft keen of pain. "I left her there… to die." She turned away from him, looking out over the water.

"Ashelin," Torn murmured, reaching out to touch her slender muscled arm where gooseflesh was raised.

She turned, so quickly that she startled him. Her liquid eyes held the tears fast and allowed none to fall. Neither moved for a long moment, and then the quiet was gone as she allowed a cry to tear itself from her throat, and suddenly she was in his arms, just as she had been when she was wounded, and – was it possible? – the wound in her heart pained her so much more than the cuts on her back.

He did not kiss her – did not give it a thought – but simply held her. She did not cry, not tears as one would normally cry. She simply allowed herself to be held, to be helped, to be healed, for the briefest moment before pulling away, and it was that moment that meant more than anything in the world.

She pulled him into the shadows, nearer the wall of a building, and stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, barely audibly, "I killed Wendel."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N I don't own anything but the plot. (Another short chapter, I am SO sorry…)

She expected him to be shocked; she expected him to pull away, run away, never looking back, shocked and repulsed by this secret she had just told him. But Torn didn't move. He continued to hold her, and for a long moment he didn't say anything. He simply stayed still, his chest rising and falling as he drew breath. She was so close to him she could feel the beating of his heart, and she took comfort in this. At last he whispered, "What did he do to you?"

Ashelin thought this was incredibly intuitive of him. Was it something in her posture, the way she was not entirely comfortable in his arms, which gave it away? Was it that she was holding her breath, breathing shallowly only when she had to, her every muscle tense against him? She did not know. The only thing she knew is that he must never find out anything more about her. "Excuse me," she mumbled, "I have to leave." She pulled away from his embrace, turned, and ran.

She didn't expect him to run after her… or maybe she did. She didn't know. Right now all the thoughts in her head seemed to be blending together into something insane, something she couldn't even begin trying to decipher. She ran faster, and so did he. He did not reach out to try and catch her, he just ran along beside her. Clearly his intent was to follow, to let her have her time but not to let her just leave him hanging.

"Get away," she murmured just loud enough for him to hear. She didn't want to attract any unwanted attention.

"I won't," he countered. "If you didn't want me to know you wouldn't have brought it up."

She cursed herself, but didn't quite realize she was cursing aloud. Why did I was that? Why? she thought desperately, but there was no turning back now that she had begun to run.

_I cannot turn back…but I can stop._

She stopped. Just like that, she stopped running and looked at him. "What do you want to know?" she asked softly.

"I want to know what he did that gave you reason to kill him," he said reasonably. "Just a simple question."

It wasn't, really, but that didn't matter now. She had to do this. She had to tell them.

"When Natasha and I went to the wasteland with Wendel, we thought we were going to get training for survival. For a while, we did, but one night we stopped at an oasis – the same one you and I went to when we were in the desert. That night, Wendel…" she gulped and closed her eyes. "….he…hurt Natasha. He beat her up, and he raped her. The next morning our weapons were gone. We didn't have anywhere to go, we didn't know the desert well enough to find water. Wendel's plan was clever – he knew where the water was, but he didn't tell us. We had to stay at the oasis, or die.

"We should've left anyway, and faced the desert on our own, but both of us were too scared. We had to stay at the oasis. Wendel kept us there, for almost two years. Sometimes he'd beat us so much I'd want to die. In the beginning, I'd cry, but after a while there are some things you learn that even tears can't fix, so there's no real point in crying.

"He'd hurt just one of us, often, and there was no telling who it would be. Sometimes he'd leave for days at a time, and come back with tons of food and beer. He'd be horribly drunk for a few days, and pass out, and leave us there, but we didn't have the nerve to leave even then. He always hid the weapons from us, too.

"Natasha and I were only thirteen years old. We were naïve, and we didn't know that much about babies and all that. But about six months after we'd started staying at the oasis, Natasha got sick. She was weak and feverish, and she'd throw up. After a while, we figured out she was pregnant. We hid it okay from Wendel –he didn't notice much. But one time in the middle of the night, Natasha woke up absolutely covered in blood and screaming. She wasn't too big yet so I figured she couldn't be in labor.

"Wendel knocked me out, and when I woke up Natasha was okay again. I don't know what he did, but whatever it was, the baby was dead and Natasha had been in labor.

"After that I found a piece of flint. It was sharp, sharp as a knife. I knew what I needed to do. The next time he was drunk and passed out…. I slit his throat…that was just before the Bahzre found us…"

Her chin trembled. Torn was afraid she would cry, and what could he do if she did? But she didn't. She blinked a few times and then finally looked at him.

"Ashelin…" he murmured. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't too good with words anyhow, but when someone had just told him the most horrible thing he had ever heard, what was he supposed to say?

"I…I'm sorry," she muttered, turning away. Her red hair – in dreds now, he noticed for the first time – blew in her face. "I shouldn't have told you that."

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

She looked, her liquid eyes wide. "Would I have told you if I didn't?"

"No," he whispered. "I'm just wondering why you trusted me…when you hardly know me."

"I do know you, though," she said.

He shook his head. "We've only known each other for a few days. If I had a secret like that, I'd probably never have the strength to trust anyone again."

She laughed, softly and bitterly. "Trust isn't a gift, Torn. It's a curse."

"No, it isn't…. only when you trust can you heal." He looked at her for a moment before saying, "Can I hug you?"

"You didn't ask before," she said with a brief smile.

"I didn't know you this way then," he explained.

"You don't need to ask." She stepped toward him and put her arms around him.

He hugged her tightly and didn't let go, his mind still reeling from what he had learned about this strong, beautiful young woman. He had a feeling that he could not even begin to comprehend to pain she had suffered, and that there was nothing he could do to help her. Even so…why not try?

He was taken from his thoughts when she pulled away. "I should go," she said quietly.

"Let me give you a ride," he requested.

She shook her head firmly. "I'll walk."

Torn shook his head just as firmly. "Please, let me give you a ride. The Palace is halfway across the city, and its kind of cold out."

Ashelin shivered in spite of her efforts not to. "Yes… it is…After so long in the desert I'd forgotten what cold wind was like."

"Well, I'll give you a ride then… It'll only take a minute."

She followed him in silence, stunned by what she had had the nerve to tell him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: sorry for the long gap between updates. I'm bad, I know….

Ashelin watched out the window at the city below. It was still early morning, and traffic was a slow-moving, sleepy stream of men and women on hovercraft heading off to their early-morning jobs. A paper delivery boy walked slowly by, his thin shoulders hunched against the wind whipping through the narrow streets. A dog growled at him, and he swore at it, seeming unafraid but walking a bit faster nonetheless. She sighed and closed her eyes. She was tired, and as she closed her eyes they watered and burned. She hadn't slept much. She had lain awake much of the night, just thinking and trying not to remember.

She didn't know what to do next. She had to rescue Natasha from the Bahzre, that was obvious, but how? It wasn't as though she could simply go up to her father and ask him for a transport to take her out of the city and over to the Bahzre fortress so she could rescue her sister who was supposed to be dead. No, there must be a better plan than that….

She dialed a number on her phone, listening for one ring, two, three… "Hello?" Torn answered.

"Torn?"

"Ashelin?"

"Yeah, it's me." She winced at how tiny and how… well, scared she sounded. "I was wondering… if I could ask you for a favor." She hated asking favors, but then again this was for her sister's life. Anything she could do, she would do.

"Depends on the favor," he said carefully, not sure what she was getting at.

"I need access to a Hellcat cruiser. Can you get me a security pass?" she asked.

Although she couldn't see him, she could almost hear in his voice that he was rolling his eyes. "You're going to look for Natasha, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said, deciding if she planned on his help she had better at least be honest with him. "And I need a way to get out of the city."

"Well, there isn't one. Not a legal one, anyway."

"You think I give a shit whether it's legal or not? Torn, she's my sister! I have to help her. The Bahzre... they might grow tired of holding her in their fortress... they might just kill her and be done with it," Ashelin said. She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard.

"I'll get you a security pass," he said finally. "But you have to let me come with you when you go."

"What?" she cried. "You?"

"Yes," he said, sounding tired. "Me. Do you agree?"

"No! Of course not!" she snapped. "It's bad enough one person from our city is with those awful people, and also bad enough I have to go rescue her. Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Because two are better than one. You can't just go into the Wasteland without backup," he said. Ashelin saw that it did make sense for someone to go with her, but she had stated her case and wasn't about to admit she had been wrong.

"Whatever," she sighed eventually. "Come over to my apartment as soon as you can."

"As soon as you can" turned out to be about twenty minutes later. Ashelin was still in the shower and she got a little freaked out when she heard someone pounding on the door -- was it someone her father had sent, come to kill her once and for all?

She took a deep breath, put on a bathrobe, and opened the door.

"Er... hello," Torn said. He blushed slightly when he looked at her. The bathrobe was not fastened all the way and left little to the imagination.

"Wait here," Ashelin muttered, and fled into her bedroom.

When she was decent again, she went into her main room to find him lounged on the couch. "You've got a nice place here," he said. "How'd you rent it on such short notice?"

She shrugged. "My father arranged it. I guess there are perks to being the Baron's daughter." She made a face. "Not that I want them."

Torn didn't answer. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"So," Ashelin said after a few seconds of awkward silence, "Did you get the security passes?"

He nodded. "Not too hard to get. You'll find that all of the city officials are very corrupt."

She grinned. "So not much has changed since I first left."

He frowned at her. "How is that funny?"

"Oh.. sorry. I guess you wouldn't know. When Natasha and I were sent out to the Wasteland, our father told us that when we came back we would be so surprised because the city would be such a different, better place." She laughed mirthlessly. "We've seen how accurate that it."

"Hm," Torn murmured. "Well... should we go, then?"

"Yeah. I'm ready, we'll just have to stop and buy some food." Ashelin reached underneath the couch and pulled out the two guns she had taken from the Bahzre trackers. Although it had only been a few days, to both of them that day they met seemed like months ago. So much had happened.

Torn shook his head. "I got some. Actually, I just took all the preserved food from my house. It'd go on city records if we just bought a bunch of food. I mean, that counts as suspicious behavior, right?"

She nodded. "Smart. I forgot about that."

When they left the city and flew over Haven Forest, their direction did not immediately take them to the Wasteland. First they had to cross the Eastern Plains. This area was new to Torn, so he left Ashelin to navigate the Hellcat.

"Shit!" he yelled when he saw the seemingly endless sea of grass, completely flat and uninhabited. "Gods! It's green!"

Ashelin laughed at him. "Torn, you are a dipshit. It's grass."

He glared at her. "I know it's grass. It's just... a LOT of grass!"

She raised her eyebrows but said no more for a few moments, until, "What's that?"

"Where?" Torn asked, looking around in the Hellcat.

"Out there!" she yelled. "What we just flew over!"

He turned and looked. "Oh. It's a house. And a well. And an old woman throwing fire at little kids."

Ashelin's eyes widened. "We're landing. Now."

"Now? What the fuck? Why?" Torn asked.

Ashelin didn't answer him. She landed the Hellcat in the tall grass and jumped out, running in the direction of the small house they had seen.

The old woman, it was revealed, was not "throwing fire at little kids." She was tossing large orange seeds to them and they were planting them. She looked up when Ashelin came nearer. The kids stopped and looked at Ashelin as well. Then, one of the children, a girl of about ten, screamed and ran to Ashelin.

"...Anya?"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own this…. Well, just the plot, and Anya and Sharlot and Willem and Marian.

"…Anya?"

Ashelin could hardly believe her eyes as she looked down at the small red-haired girl who was now hugging her around the waist. Anya looked up at her and smiled. "Hi, Ashelin."

"Oh, Anya I though…. I thought you were dead!" Ashelin said. She felt as if, through all the pain she couldn't seem to forget, something was blossoming, and could it be?

Happiness.

"Who're you?" Torn asked Anya gruffly.

Anya disliked him immediately. "I'm her sister," she snapped. "Who're you?"

"I'm Torn," he answered.

Ashelin, meanwhile, had turned her attention to the old woman, who was watching her with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Finally the old woman said, "But where's Natasha?"

Grief flooded Ashelin's face. "Maria… is that you?" she asked in a choked voice. When the old woman nodded, she continued, "Natasha is a prisoner of the Bahzre."

"No," gasped Maria. She burst into loud sobs and ran into the house as fast as she could go.

"Ashelin." It was Torn's cold voice. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" She felt his hand on her arm, steering her away from the people. She could've easily pulled away even from his strong grasp, but she felt compelled to hear what he had to say.

"Who the fuck are these people?" Torn snapped. He looked angry, and Ashelin had no idea why.

Ashelin looked hurt at the anger on his face. "Anya is my younger sister," she explained. "She and I had the same biological mother, though neither of us have ever seen her. The other kids, I don't know who they are. But Maria… Maria is Natasha's mother, and she practically raised Anya and me even though we weren't her children. She and Anya disappeared soon before Natasha and I were sent to the desert. I thought they were dead."

"Oh," Torn said. He looked slightly more compassionate now. "Well…. We really should get going."

"Just let me talk to Maria and Anya for a little bit," Ashelin pleaded. "C'mon, just a few minutes. It won't take long."

"I thought we were going to rescue Natasha," Torn argued.

"Yes, but Maria might know something about my father. I need to ask her some questions," Ashelin said. "You can come with me, or just wait for me. Either way, I'm staying for a bit."

Torn sighed but followed her back to the house. Maria and Anya were nowhere to be seen, and the other children had resumed planting the large orange seeds. Torn sat down on a rough wooden bench by the door as Ashelin went inside.

"Hello."

A woman came around the edge of the house. She was Torn's age, eighteen, or perhaps a little older. She carried a small boy on one hip.

Torn raised his eyebrows. "Hello," he murmured. He didn't even try to disguise his wandering eyes as he took in her full breasts straining against her bodice and her waist, which was slender even though the child she carried was obviously hers. They both had silvery-blonde curls and dark eyes. Torn coughed and looked away as Ashelin came out of the house, looking sad. She froze when she saw the young woman.

"Sharlot," she said coldly. "Fancy meeting you here." She turned on her heel and headed straight toward the Hellcat. Torn followed, now completely puzzled.

"What?" he asked Ashelin when she didn't start the Hellcat, only sat stony-faced at the controls.

"I see you've met Sharlot," she said. "Isn't her baby cute?"

Torn was startled at the seemingly random question. "Well…" he said. "Yes, I suppose."

"It's Wendel's baby," Ashelin said harshly.

"Oh…" Torn answered eloquently. "You've met her before?"

"Of course," Ashelin said. "We were best friends in Haven, and she came with Natasha and I with Wendel into the desert. She was only going because I begged for her to be allowed to. She went home after about a few months, pregnant with his child. That was before Natasha and I were trapped out there. After Sharlot left, though, he just sort of snapped."

"What a whore," she added as an afterthought.

"Maybe… he raped her too," Torn suggested.

"Yeah, you say that," she snapped. "You weren't the one hearing them night after night, only a few feet away from you."

Torn winced and decided not to say anything.

"Let's go," Ashelin whispered. "You were right. Maria didn't know anything about my father, and we need to rescue Natasha."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

That night they camped in the desert. They were still a few day's journey away from the Bahzre city. It was a rather warm night, for a desert, and Ashelin couldn't sleep. She lay in her bedroll for awhile, tossing and turning, and finally she just sat up and stared out into the silence and desolation that made up the Wasteland.

"You can't sleep either?"

It was Torn, speaking in a low voice from a few feet away.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'm just so worried about Natasha."

He was moving towards her, scooting closer. This made her slightly nervous but she sat still and allowed him to put his arm around her. "We'll find her," he whispered gruffly. "I promise you, we'll rescue her."

Ashelin curled up into a ball and rested her head on her knees. "Yeah," she said. "It's just finding her alive that may be the problem."

She felt something: His lips brushing her ear. She stiffened slightly and didn't move. Surely… he wouldn't try anything. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Sorry," he muttered. His voice seemed deeper than usual.

She turned to him. "It's okay."

For once, it actually was okay, she realized as he kissed her lips. It was a chaste kiss and it took her a moment to realize that yes, she was okay with it, and for once, not only was it okay, it was a wanted and needed gesture.

He kissed her again, longer this time, and after a moment she felt his tongue slipping between her lips. She returned the affections of his tongue and for a moment they were content with this, the simple exploring of each other's lips and mouths. Finally they broke their kiss to breathe.

Their next kiss was still more heated and passionate. Ashelin was slightly light-headed and she felt Torn's hand on her back, her shoulders, her neck, and down across her rapidly-beating heart to her breasts. She stiffened as he touched her there, and pulled away. "Don't," she said breathlessly. "Don't."

It was that simple word that led him back to his bedroll to finish his night in sleepless silence.

………………………………………………………………………………

The next day they flew the Hellcat at a faster pace, through the Wasteland. They went over a huge oasis, the biggest in the whole desert. Torn dismisssed its beauty as only something passing, but Ashelin marveled at it, at the way it managed to stay so green and lush in the middle of such a desolate place. She looked down and saw trees, bushes, flowers in orange and pink and red, a whole jungle of beauty amidst a war-ravaged land... and it thrived upon itself and the small river that gave it life.

"So, where exactly is this fortress you talk about?" Torn asked. "Are we near it?"

"Almost," Ashelin said grimly. "And trust me, you'll know when we get there. You can see the clouds of smog for miles. The Bahzre's only form of trade is in rugs made of the hair of their goats. They're fine rugs -- we have some at the Palace -- but the rug-making plant is a disgusting thing. It pollutes the entire area. In the summer the sky around it is green, and everything smells."

"Ah," Torn said. "Well, that sure makes me optimistic."

She gave a small, bitter smile but did not say anything.

Neither of them spoke of what had happened between them the previous night. It was as if they understood without words that Torn had gone too far for her, but there was a hint that someday there might be something more for them. Ashelin had felt embarassed, at first, to have told him to stop, but the more time passed the less she regretted her decision. She would have been sick if she had let him touch her, she was sure of it. She wasn't ready for it, not until she could stop remembering.

Several more hours passed and at last they saw clouds of greenish-grey smog, faint in the distance. Torn felt growing fear of the place where so much evil had been done, but what could he do? He had come this far with Ashelin; he surely wasn't going to turn back now.

Ashelin parked the Hellcat behind some rocks just out of sight of the fortress city. She made sure it was secured and well-hidden, then she sat down to think of how they could rescue Natasha.

"It's a good thing battle plans are my area of expertise," Torn bragged jokingly.

"Don't be an ass," snapped Ashelin, clearly not in the mood for any kind of joking. Torn sat back quietly, rather frightened by the sound of her voice. She was stronger and better-trained than he was, and there was no telling what she might do if he made her angry.

_Oh, gods,_ he thought, _I'm scared of a woman._

After nearly an hour, Ashelin flopped back against a rock. She sighed. "I just don't know," she confided. "The only way I can think of for getting in is to actually be captured, but they'd take all our weapons so we wouldn't stand a chance. We'd just be killed."

"Shit," Torn muttered. "What the hell?"

"What?" Ashelin asked. She turned and looked in the direction he pointed. "Oh, my gods."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So short, I know….. everyone read The Tainted, it has stolen my focus for the time being….

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

"What the hell?" Ashelin muttered. She stared at the huge line of incoming vehicles, all headed toward the Bahzre fortress. They were unmistakably red, the deep red of Krimzon Guard warcraft. "Torn," she muttered. "Hide."

He didn't move. She grabbed his arm and pulled him behind some rocks, deeper and deeper into a small cave in the center of the pile of rocks. "Ashelin," Torn said, "this whole thing could collapse on us..."

"I know," she replied grimly. "Or, we could go out there and be shot."

He raised his eyebrows. "Let's see... death by being CRUSHED, or death by being SHOT. I'm gonna have to think about that." He buried his face in his hands. "God, Ashelin. How did you know this was in here, anyway?"

"I didn't," she said with a shrug. "We could've hidden okay without it. This is just better."

"This is more dangerous," he argued.

"Not," she murmured as the ground shook with the weight of the huge tanks rolling past them. "It's just as dangerous out there."

He leaned against the wall, but sprang back toward Ashelin just as quickly. "Shit! I swear I felt that move when I leaned against it!"

"It did not... just hold still for a minute, and we can get out of here when I'm sure the coast is clear."

"And what puts you in charge? Maybe I already think the coast is clear!" he snapped.

"You sound like a two-year-old. Please act your age," she snapped. "Just wait a few minutes, okay?"

"I'm not acting like a fucking two-year-old," Torn muttered, pouting slightly.

_Oh, God..._

"Fine, you're not. Just cool it."

Just then a huge explosion rocked the ground. The pile of rocks fairly shuddered around them, but did not fall. Torn jumped a mile, and found himself in an odd position, sitting/laying on Ashelin. "Shit, you're heavy," she muttered, her eyes flashing. "Get the fuck away..." She shoved him with all her strength, so that he was next to her. To their horror, they noticed that the ceiling of the little cave, which had been about five feet, was barely four feet tall now.

"Can we get out of here now?" Torn asked in a gruff voice.

"Yep," she said in a small voice. "Now would be a good time for that... just out of here though, not out of the rocks altogether."

They found themselves squished together in the small rocky tunnel, with the light of day visible at the end of it. Ashelin tried not to think of what might be happening outside. In her effort to think of something different, she found herself remembering what had happened between them last night, and, she guessed, just now when they found themselves in an awkward position. She shook her head to clear her mind as she thought of another image, on of them, together, kissing and touching and doing things she never wanted to thinnk about again, free of memories and nightmares, content just with each other.

Torn hadn't spoken for a few minutes. "You okay?" Ashelin asked him.

"Yeah..." he muttered. He was very close to her. "Do you hear something?"

Faintly, yes, she realized. Screams, and gunshots, from very far away, just close enough to be heard. "They're attacking the fortress," she breathed. "Now's our chance to get in there -- we're dressed like Krimzon Guards!"

"Ashelin, don't you think they're there to rescue Natasha?" Torn asked. "What would be the point of us going, when they could just do it for us?"

"Sh!" she hissed.

Silence filled the tunnel, and their minds. Absolute silence for a few moments, and then the rumbling of the warcraft again as the took off and sped away.

_**Boom**_

"What the heck?" Ashelin said, once she could hear again and her mind had cleared from the huge, deafening noise. It was the loudest explosion she had ever heard. She crawled out of the tunnel with Torn right behind her, trying to avoid looking at a certain part of Ashelin that was directly in his line of vision.

When they were in the bright, hot sun of the desert again, Ashelin stared toward the fortress. Her eyes were filled with tears from the change of very dim light to some of the brightest sun in the world. But even now, when she could not help having tears, she did not surrender and allow them to fall. She wiped her eyes on her wrist and stared.

The fortress was gone. There was nothing on the horizon, nothing but sand.

That day and night they did not stop flying. They were headed straight toward Haven City, the most direct route, straight over the mountains. Inside her head, Ashelin was screaming with questions. Torn was asleep. How could he possibly sleep at a time like this?

Ashelin didn't know how she could possibly ask her father about what had happened in the desert that day, without incriminating herself. She went to the palace. She went to what had been her mother's apartments. She didn't think they would've been touched even in the ten years since her mother had died -- no one used that part of the Palace.

She was correct. The rooms were dusty, but the same as she remembered them. She curled up on a couch and tried to think rationally. She couldn't. Where was Natasha? Had she died, in the attack?

"No," Ashelin muttered. "Don't think don't think don't think..."

"It's good to think."

Ashelin turned around and nearly choked at the sight of the person standing there. She looked just like Ashelin, only paler and with blue-white hair in dreds...

At his apartment, Torn had collapsed on the couch. He wanted to sleep. He didn't want to think of what the destruction of the Bahzre fortress could mean for their city. He didn't want to think at all. Mostly he didn't want to think of Ashelin.

It was the reunion, the one Ashelin thought would never happen. She and Natasha stayed up all night that night, talking and talking, using up all the words they had been meaning to say to each other in the weeks since they had last been together. Ashelin needed answers, and Natasha was just the person to provide them.

"I don't know why the KG showed up," she said with a shrug. "Some guys just came bursting in and dragged me out. I was pretty weak, and didn't really care. I didn't put up a fight. I figured they were going to kill me or something... then, they put me in this tank, and I heard them blowing up the fortress. They brought me back here, and Praxis... " Ashelin noted that Natasha no longer referred to him as their father -- "told me you were... dead...

"So, I came here, to grieve, or whatever... and here you were." After this narrative, Natasha began to cry anew and couldn't say more. No more was needed. Ashelin hugged her sister and best friend.

Reunion.


	9. Chapter 9

Weeks passed. Ashelin and Torn did not see each other. Ashelin and Natasha were kept apart for much of the time. Ashelin suspected that her father might be up to something, but she kept quiet. There was no one except for Natasha that she truly trusted. She simply had to stay cautious.

She was assigned mainly to basic patrols in the slums area. This was a fairly quiet part of town. The people were very poor. Hardly anyone was ever out on the streets. Anyone not out on official business was either shot or forced to join the Krimzon Guard.

Once, Ashelin stopped by Torn's apartment. No one answered, and she realized she'd be more apt to find him in a bar. She didn't know which one of Haven City's many bars he frequented, however, so she was content to think that they'd meet up someday.

Ashelin's personal favorite bar was one near the Port: the Hip Hog Heaven Saloon. She did not like this bar because of the company she kept there, or because of the helpful and friendly service. She liked it because when she was there, no one knew who she was. She could engage in casual conversation, conversation that was never expected to go any further, then get up, go home, and never see the same people again. It was comforting, this feeling of being anonymous.

"Ashelin?"

It was Baron Praxis calling her on her Krimzon Guard radio. She was reading the Eco meters in the slums, and she rolled her eyes before replying, "Yes, my Lord?"

"Go and find Errol."

"As if I'm his fucking babysitter!" she fumed after she turned off her radio. "God-fuck-damnit! He's probably in some brothel, getting laid!" But there was no disobeying Baron Praxis.

She called Errol on his radio, but there was no answer (as she had expected), so she dialed another number. "Vin?"

"Y-y-yes? Who is this? Are you friendly?" came a nervous voice. In the background Ashelin could hear the clicking of the machinery that operated the city's Eco grid and the shield walls.

"It's Ashelin. I need you to trace a KG radio for me. Can you do that?"

"Of course!" he answered hotly. "I can trace anything from here!"

"Good. Trace Commander Errol's radio, please," she said. For once, Ashelin was glad that the annoying little man was her friend.

"He's in some bar in the Port. The Hip Hog Heaven Saloon, owned by a guy who's been arrested seven times for smuggling and selling on the black market."

Ashelin left him rambling and got into her vehicle.

She had no intention of finding Errol and forcing him to go to the headquarters to meet Baron Praxis. The best she could hope for would be that either he'd be too drunk to argue or that he'd at least turn on his radio so that Praxis could summon him personally.

It never got completely dark in the Port. The bright lights of the search towers and the neon signs of the waterside businesses made sure of that. This was the time when Ashelin truly saw just how far their city had fallen. Gunshots rang out and there were screams: two men were shooting at each other. Whores on the sidewalk showed their 'wares' to passing men. A group in an alley was passed out, apparently stoned. There were curses and yells as people were thrown out of bars. Ashelin locked her Hellcat securely in the Krimzon Guard parking lot and entered the Hip Hog Heaven Saloon.

Pot smoke burned her eyes. The air was a shimmery blue from the drugs being used. Ashelin didn't see Errol at first; he was in a corner back booth with another man and a whore, seeing who could drink the most.

A familiar jingling laugh caught Ashelin's ear. She looked around and saw a certain blue-haired individual sitting at the bar beside a cloaked man. What the fuck? she thought. Natasha doesn't drink.

Dismissing the thought, she turned to Errol. "Praxis wishes audience with you," she murmured to him. "It would be unwise to keep him waiting."

With a drunken sigh he tossed a bill on the table and staggered out of the bar. He was followed by Natasha and the man in the cloak. Ashelin went back out, took her Hellcat, and went back to her apartment in the Palace. Her bedroom closet adjoined to Natasha's. She opened the doors on both sides so she would hear when Natasha came in. They hadn't seen each other for several days, and even then it had been in passing.

Ashelin waited for what seemed like hours. At last she closed the doors and went to bed, hoping to speak with Natasha first thing in the morning.

Ashelin slept fitfully, first by nightmares and then by dreams of Torn. She woke up, sweaty and confused, only once. She laid on her side with her legs tight together, trying to ignore the achy wanting she felt. She went back to sleep, and did not wake again until morning.

Ashelin heard deep, even breathing on the other side of the door. She knocked softly, not wanting to wake Natasha if she was actually asleep, although she often was not. When there was no answer to her questioning knock, she opened the door a crack and peered inside the room.

She turned back and shut the door, a furious blush rising in her cheeks. Natasha lay on her bed, but she was not alone there. Sleeping next to her, holding her, was a man. Ashelin guessed it was the man Natasha had left the bar with the previous night, although she didn't have any idea who it would be. She didn't understand how Natasha could be with another man, after what Wendel had done. Didn't it pain her? Didn't she remember terrible things the way Ashelin did? Or had she found what Ashelin sought: to forget.

She returned to her apartment for breakfast. She did not expect to see Natasha again that morning, so it surprised her when her sister entered the room less than a half hour later.

"You needed to talk to me?" Natasha said teasingly, laughing kindly at the blush on Ashelin's cheeks.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to walk in on you," Ashelin muttered.

"Hey, it's not like you caught us in the act. He left," Natasha informed her.

"Because of me?"

It was a dumb question, evidence of her insecurity and embarrassment. Natasha only smiled. "No, silly. He had to go to work."

"Is he the guy you were with at the bar last night?" Ashelin asked.

"Yeah. I was going to come over and talk to you, but Torn wanted to leave – What?"

For she had noticed that Ashelin's embarrassed blush had seeped away, and her face was now a ghostly white.

"You were with Torn?" Ashelin choked out.

Natasha smiled. "Yes. We're going out – didn't you know?"

"No, I must've missed that… how did you meet him?" Ashelin asked carefully. An inside part of her was throwing a tantrum.

"I work with him a lot," Natasha explained. "He's a really nice guy. He mentioned that he knows you?"

"Yeah," Ashelin replied. "We've met before." She hadn't told Natasha about Torn's involvement in their little escapade – if word got out, it could mean Torn's arrest. No one was allowed to leave the city except on official business, and certainly rescuing someone Praxis wanted dead would hardly qualify as official business.

"I have to go," Natasha said. She seemed to be all smiles this morning.

"Goodbye," Ashelin murmured. "Talk to you later, Natasha."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

All day she walked around numbly, all pale skin, shallow breath, and shock. She ignored everyone, and did her best to ignore herself. The city was quiet, far more quiet than usual, but she didn't notice; to her, everything was quiet and everything was numb.

The announcement came in the late afternoon. She heard it as though it came from a great distance away, rather than from just down the street a few blocks. "All Krimzon Guard recruits are to report to the Fortress. Immediately. Repeat, report to the fortress immediately."

A blessed break in monotony. She sighed and walked toward the towering, ominous building that was the Fortress. She hated going there. Sometimes she had to, but for weeks after she would have nightmares of ghostly faces, scars and endless screaming for release. Prisoners held there never came out. They never lasted long; shock, and at last blessed death, came within a few weeks or even days.

The directions on the loudspeaker told her to go to the Auditorium. That was not surprise; it was the only one room in the entire city that could fit the entire Krimzon Army into it, and even then it was a tight squeeze.

Ashelin sat in the back, hoping for a quick escape at the end of whatever they had been called here for. She looked around for Natasha at first, but pangs of pain and even jealousy overtook her, and she sat alone, surrounded by a crowd. She just wanted to sleep, but that was impossible right now. She saw a familiar face, and remembered….

_There was a time when pollution was less, and the trees and grass were still green in the summer, and the water was clear and cold. Summer was hot, and swimming was the prime activity for anyone who had the ability to leave the city._

_It was a blistering day, but there was a poll going on in the city and Ashelin was in the forest, alone with Pablo. Pablo had been her first boyfriend – and her last – and her only. She was thirteen years old. Pablo was seventeen._

_She stood in the cold water, naked and shivering despite the heat of the day. The water reached only to her thighs, and she had no desire to go in any further._

"_A little cold, there?" Pablo's teasing voice called. Ashelin nodded mutely, but screamed in terror as he lunged toward her._

_She slipped on the mossy rocks and fell, landing on the sandy bottom of the river. She lunged up for air, but Pablo pulled her down again and kissed her underneath the water, a fierce, hot kiss that lasted until they floated to the surface and at last had to breathe again._

_Pablo scrambled up onto the bank of the river and pulled Ashelin up beside him. Water dripped off of her flaming red hair and sprinkled cold drops over her pale shoulders and into the hollow between her breasts. Pablo gazed at her for a moment, a hungry, rapturous gaze, and then kissed her again._

_It was a different kind of kissing than she had ever felt before: urgent. Pablo waited only a few moments before lowering himself on top of her…_

She shook her head rapidly to clear it. She didn't want to remember the humiliation and pain she felt when she realized that her first time would not be gentle, not be tender, not be the way it was described in books.

The man who had been Pablo, who had changed his name, moved up in the Krimzon Guard, and utterly forsaken his old identity, walked across the stage amidst polite applause: Errol, Head Commander of the Krimzon Guard.

"I regret to inform you," he intoned gravely, "that one of our number perished this morning."

Ashelin immediately stopped listening. She didn't care if someone she didn't know was dead; but then again, why had they all been called here? People died every day; it was sad, but it wasn't any big deal.

"One of our Elite rank was killed this morning in an accident in the Palace."

_In the Palace? What the fuck_? Ashelin thought.

"Natasha Praxis is dead."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This story is officially a little bit AU, because I didn't realize Ashelin and Torn's age difference until someone told me, but I'm not going to go back and change it, so their ages are a little off.**

The wind took Ashelin's flame-colored dreadlocks in its icy fingers and whipped them around, stinging her face. She had cried only two hot tears, and they had quickly frozen on her face. They felt like fire, although they were ice.

"The children of fire and ice." She scarcely could hear these whispered words over the howling of the wind in her ears. "That's what we were… and now all that's left is fire. No ice, no chill to calm the flames." I wish I was dead.

She was on the roof of the Palace. She wasn't sure exactly how she had gotten here. It didn't matter anyway. Hazy and far-off in her memory she saw herself, running, sometimes collapsing from exhaustion, across the city, and climbing stairs, over a mile up the flights that were icy. Once she fell, but she hardly noticed. There were things within that hurt so much more than physical bruises, things she was just now discovering.

She ran her hands over her face: her eyes, watery as they reacted to the wind, green and slightly almond-shaped, full of a haunted look; her nose, delicate yet strong; her cheeks, pale as ivory; her red lips, chapped from being bitten (pain made her strong).

There was nothing left, no soul. Only a body, an empty shell, and soon that would be gone as well. She walked to the edge of the roof. The sheet metal was slippery with dirty ice, and her feet slid. She wasn't scared. She would die now, for there was nothing left.

"The children of Fire and Ice."

Won't this free the Bahzre? But the Bahzre are gone…

"No!"

A yell, and strong arms – so warm – and blackness…

…………………………………

For days she was sick, sick to death with chills and anguish. Fever burned her body even as she shivered beneath thick fur coverlets, and her even her bones ached. Sweat poured off her body, and someone cared for her. She couldn't see who it was, and she was too sick to even try to sort out her thoughts.

She could hear a voice murmuring a name: "Natasha." It was her own voice, of course… she was too tired to even think, and everything was so cold, but still she could speak? This wasn't right, she wasn't here, there was nothing left…

…………………………………..

"Torn?"

It was Torn, sitting beside her bed. She felt better; her head was clearer now, although she felt like she had been run over by a truck. 

"What…are you doing here?" she asked, confused and tired. "And… where is here?"

He smiled grimly. "'Here' is the Underground Headquarters. I'm here because I'm hiding out, you're here because you're sick and I was taking care of you." His voice was so different, harsh and grating, that she was jolted at first.

"Really," she murmured. She lay back, letting her head sink into the feather pillow. She was too tired to ask any more questions just now.

He seemed to want to tell her anyway. "I found you on the roof, and kept you from jumping. You were practically delirious with fever, and I brought you here. The Shadow kept you alive."

"Shadow?" she asked groggily. "Who?"

"He's in charge here," Torn explained. "He's the head of the Underground movement."

She remembered him. "I've met him… he was in prison once. He's Haven City's most wanted."

He nodded.

Ashelin felt restless, and vulnerable laying here talking to him. She wanted to get out of bed, to go and do something, anything! She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and gasped in shame.

She pulled the covers back over herself as fast as she could, a crimson blush spreading across her pale cheeks. She was naked underneath the scratchy wool blanket. She hadn't noticed it before because she felt so numb.

"Torn," she whispered, embarrassed and frightened, "I can't feel anything."

"Neither can I," he answered. "Neither can I."

…………………………………………

She wasn't allowed to get out of bed for several days following her conversation with Torn. She didn't see him at all during that time. She was mostly left alone, with her meals brought to her by a silent brown-haired woman with scars on her face and neck. Her muscles ached to be stretched and used; she had a rash from poor circulation. She was used to moving nearly all the time.

As soon as she was up and dressed she took it upon herself to explore her surroundings. She thought that the headquarters of an organization that caused so much trouble must be very large and busy, but she was surprised. The Underground HQ consisted of a long passageway, a tiny, cramped dorm, a sickroom (where she had been staying), and a larger room where meetings and plans were conducted.

Very few people were ever even there. The brown-haired woman, and a blonde man called Jinx, and Torn, were the only people she ever saw.

Torn was there again, she saw. "Hello," she murmured.

He jumped a foot in the air. " Ashelin! You scared the shit out of me!" He walked over to her and looked her in the eyes. "How are you?" he asked earnestly.

"I'm doing better," she answered honestly. "But I have more questions for you. Will you answer them?"

He raised his eyebrows. "That depends on what the questions are." He sat down on a bench near the wall, and motioned for her to sit near him.

She sat beside him, and tried to find a way to phrase her question. "What was… going on… with you and Natasha?" Her cheeks turned a ruddy red as she remembered the embarrassing scene she had walked in upon. Had it been only a few days before?

His face tightened visibly, and she could tell she had run into a barrier already. "We were just going out," he said. "I liked her a lot."

"Did you love her?" Ashelin asked.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't love her; I didn't know her that well. I think I could've loved her, in time, but we'd only known each other for a few weeks."

"Then… why did you try to kill yourself?" This was the question she had dreaded asking, and she saw in his eyes that he also dreaded having to answer.

"I don't know if I should tell you," he answered.

"Tell," she prompted. "I won't think any less of you for it."

He turned away, to stare at the blank wall. He was burning with shame, not sure whether he should tell her or not.

"I killed her," he finally murmured. "It was an accident… one of the Lurker prisoners had gotten loose, I shot at it, and… she got in front of the bullet. She died." He couldn't cry, he wouldn't, not here in front of her. It felt like he was choking on his thoughts.

He heard her gasp, and saw her glistening eyes. She sagged against the warm stone of the wall, and she didn't say anything else for a few moments. "I don't hate you," she finally murmured.

He was a little surprised. "You don't?"

"No, I don't," she said. "Better for her to have died doing her job than to have died at the hands of our father." She knew this sounded bitter, but she didn't care. Everything hurt.

She didn't know what she expected him to say. "Here," he muttered. He passed her a bottle of foul-smelling liquid.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Whiskey."

She shrugged. Not like she had anything better to do. She took a long drink of the liquid. It burned her throat like fire, but she forced herself to swallow before passing the bottle back to him.

They sat there like that for a long time – she didn't know how long. The headquarters was utterly silent. They passed the bottle back and forth until they had consumed all of the liquid in it.

Ashelin's head was swimming, and she couldn't see too clearly. "Don't drink much, do you?" Torn muttered. With a groan, he rose to his feet and helped her to stand.

Ashelin took a few steps, but ran into a table. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Nevermind," he snapped. He didn't know why he was irritated, but he was. He picked her up – she was so light – and carried her back to her bed.

He left her there, not wanting to linger for any longer than he had to. It reminded him of another time that seemed a lifetime ago, even though it was only a week. It had only been the first time he and Natasha had gone out together; he realized now that the two of them had been intimate too soon.

He sank back down onto the bench, only a little drunk, and immersed himself in a memory, trying to just forget how much it hurt.

His companion was beautiful, like ice (where had he heard that before? He couldn't remember…), and she laughed fetchingly at whatever he said.

Where were they? He must have taken something, he must be hallucinating. Were they at her place already? She opened the door, and led him inside. She kissed him, and her mouth tasted of beer and lots of it. He couldn't keep still, she was so beautiful…

"Torn? Torn? TORN!"

"Hm?" Had he really fallen asleep? Oh god…

"You're supposed to be on patrol!"

Oh shit… "Sorry," he muttered to Jinx.

"Yeah, really," Jinx snapped. "Get out there, dumbass!" The younger man rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Her sleep was a mass of disturbing dreams, twisting and turning within her mind. She saw Marian, and Anya, Sharlot and Willem, and Willa, and Baron Praxis with his glowing laser sword raised high above his head, bringing it crashing down onto Natasha and leaving her there bleeding…. Ashelin could hear herself screaming and screaming. This wasn't happening, Natasha was dead….

…and then she saw Halland, in the robes of a Bahzre priest, splattered with the blood from the goat they had sacrificed…. "NO!"

Her scream awakened every one of the refugees who had bedded down in the tiny dormitory for that night. There was confusion, but she was oblivious to it. Sleep sought her once again, and she fell back onto her bed, too weak to get up.

…………………………………..

"Ashelin, wake up." She didn't want to respond to the voice that entered her dreams. "Ashelin – wake up!" She ignored it again. It was so nice here, so warm….

Someone shook her, hard, and she jolted awake. "Oh, god…" she muttered. It felt like someone had stuck pins in every part of her body.

"Someone's a little hung over, I see." It was the scarred woman who usually took care of her. Ashelin had never heard her talk before this, and her voice was a surprise. It was a pretty voice, and it seemed alien on this individual. "Did Torn get you drunk?"

"I got drunk on my own," she muttered sullenly. "What do you want?"

The woman snorted. "That's a fine thing to say to someone who's been taking care of you."

"Sorry," Ashelin murmured. "What time is it?"

"It's about 10:30… at night."

"Did I sleep for a WHOLE DAY?" Ashelin gasped. She didn't know if she'd ever slept that long, even after drinking.

"Two days." The woman tried unsuccessfully to hide her amusement.

Ashelin sighed. "Now it's night and I know I'm not going to sleep any more…" She got out of bed, and realized she was still in the clothes she had worn several days ago. "I need a shower, and some clean clothes," she said. "Can you help with that?"

The woman nodded, apparently going back to her old policy of silence. She led Ashelin first to a closet, and gave her a towel and dressing gown. Then she walked down a long hallway Ashelin hadn't noticed before, to a stone room with several showers along a wall.

"Pass your clothes out to me, and then lock the door behind you," was the woman's murmured instruction before she left.

Ashelin gave the woman her dirty clothes, and did her best to lock the door. She pushed in the button until she heard a click, but just as she turned around it popped open again. "Goddamn it," she muttered, pushing the button again. This time it stayed, and she turned and stepped into the shower.

The water was icy cold, but she did her best to ignore the cold that made her skin feel tight and her teeth chatter. She concentrated only on scrubbing herself with the cake of hard soap as quickly as she could. The water, coming through old pipes, made a sound like a dull roar, and Ashelin didn't hear a sound as the button on the lock popped open again with a snap.

She didn't hear the door open, and she didn't see the person who stepped inside.

Ashelin stepped out of the shower, her head still aching, and reached for her towel. She didn't see Torn right away. He was staring in awe at her, this goddess who had just come from the shower. He hadn't had a clue who was in there – it could've been anyone in the Underground – and the door hadn't been locked when he had come in!

She noticed him after only a few seconds. He should have averted his eyes, but he hadn't. He was staring openly. She gasped, and flung up the towel to cover herself. Torn himself was only in his boxers, and she tried to hide the fact that she was staring at his body as well. Even with a few battle scars, he was buff, and she took in his appearance appreciatively.

He was glad he had his towel around his waist to hide his body's reaction to seeing her like this. "Hello," she murmured self-consciously. "I'll… be going now…" The look in his eyes scared the hell out of her.

He crossed the room in a single bound, a leap toward her. She backed away, cowering, but his touch was gentle as he took her in his arms. "You just looked so sad," he murmured, pulling her close. She let him; she supposed she could trust him.

His touch was warm and comforting, and she leaned against him. It was nice to be held in human arms again, and although her head seemed to be spinning, she was able to think enough to decide, "What else is left to lose?"

She tilted her head up, and her lips met his in a kiss. He gasped, taken slightly by surprise. I shouldn't do this, he thought. I shouldn't, I shouldn't…He went from thinking to just feeling as she slid her tongue between his lips, into his mouth. He returned the favor, and for a few moments they were content to just explore each other's mouths. This wasn't like the last time they had kissed. That time, there had been a certain innocence that no longer existed between them: they had experienced too much. This time they kissed with a feverish wanting to be satisfied.

The towel covering Ashelin's naked body had long since fallen away, and there was nothing but skin between the two of them. His arms were around her, and a sigh rose from her lips as he moved his hands along her hips, up, encircling her waist, coming up to stroke her full breasts.

…………………………………………………

It was very brief, this burst of passion, brief and unplanned. When it was over, Ashelin was backed up against the cold cement wall. Her back was bruised from being pushed against the wall by his violent thrusts. This wasn't supposed to happen, she thought wildly. It was never supposed to happen! She hung her head, ashamed at what she had just done.

Torn didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He looked at her bowed head, and she looked so sad that he was tempted to offer comfort – but for what? They had both lost control.

When several minutes had passed and neither of them said anything, he pulled on his clothes and left. Screw the shower, he thought, I've got to get out of here.

Ashelin sank to her knees on the damp floor. "I thought you could make me feel complete," she murmured.

She had been so wrong.

…………………………………………….

"Ashelin?"

It was the woman with the scars. "Yeah?" Ashelin said. She was no longer on the floor. She had gotten up and sat, wrapped in a towel, for what seemed like forever.

"I have your clothes." The woman handed her a small bundle of clothing.

Ashelin managed a stiff smile. "Thank you," she said softly. The woman turned to leave. "Wait!" Ashelin called.

"Yes?"

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Raziel," the woman answered.

"Ah," Ashelin nodded. Unable to force herself to make more conversation, she busied herself dressing. She planned to leave, and she did not plan to return.


	12. Chapter 12

"Where's Ashelin?" 

Torn's voice cut through the silence of the headquarters, empty and still. Raziel was the only one there, and she looked up, startled, when he burst in through the door. "She left," Raziel explained simply. "A little bit after you did. She said she felt better and she was going to go home."

Torn's blood ran cold. "What the fuck was she thinking?" he exploded. Without another word to Raziel, he turned and stormed back out. He had come to warn her that she could NEVER go home, not while her father was still alive. Both Ashelin and Torn were now listed on "Haven's Most Wanted," with a reward of Eco.

Their crimes, the list said, were spying and treason against Baron Praxis, and Torn had the added accusation of murdering Natasha. It was all true, all justified – and all unintentional. They could never go back.

Torn didn't want to face Ashelin after what they had done earlier. What kind of person was he, to have sex with Natasha and then with Natasha's sister only days later? He groaned as he stepped outside into the frigid night air. "I am a worthless bastard," he muttered. But there was nothing he could do about that right now. He had to find Ashelin.

If she had shown up at the Palace, there was a good chance he would know it by now. But he had to look. He couldn't get access to the upper levels of city airspace in anything but a Hellcat.

He clicked on his radio. "Jinx?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Torn. Listen, we both know you're an asshole, but could you get me a KG transport? Now?" Torn's voice was hushed and urgent. Even Jinx, stupid bastard that he was, knew to obey that voice.

"Yeah, get it out of the KG garage in five minutes," the hacker responded. "I'll fix the system for you."

"Thanks," Torn said, but he felt no real gratitude for the man. Early on, in training for the Krimzon Guard, they had been rivals. Jinx had dropped out of the Guard just before they had been sworn in, though, and the two of them had lost track of each other for several years. Torn was fond of referring to those years as the best years of his life.

The Hellcat was easy enough to get out of the KG garage; no one was there but the security robots, which had been successfully programmed by Jinx to let Torn access a Hellcat.

…………………………………………………………….

The Palace loomed menacingly in front of Torn. Baron Praxis was confident enough in Krimzon Guard security that he had not installed any turrets on the sides of the Palace; Torn knew he would be safe enough with the cloaking device.

There was a Hellcat parked next the window of Ashelin's room, and there was no one in it. Then a large bundle was thrown out the window into the Hellcat. The bundle was followed by Ashelin. Torn pulled up beside her.

Her face was tear streaked and her usually-neat dreds were messy and frizzy. She was looking straight at him, but she barely seemed to recognize him. "What are you doing here?" she yelled. Ah, so she recognized him after all.

"I came to get you. We have to leave the city for a while – now! We're Haven City's Most Wanted!" he called over to her.

She glared at him. "I know that, and I AM leaving the city."

"I'm coming with you then!" he said.

"Like fucking hell you are," she snarled. "I'm going to the desert, to find the rest of the Bahzre. Anyone who thinks Halland and the other priests were killed in that explosion is just stupid; I'm going to find them, and THEN I'll have my revenge."

Torn swallowed hard. Revenge? For hurting Natasha and herself? He had killed Natasha; did this mean he was next on her list for revenge?

"I'll go with you," he said, and before she could stop him he had launched himself over into her hovercar.

"Damn you, Torn, get out before I push you out!" she screeched.

"You wouldn't push me out," he said. His impassive face masked the thoughts that swirled around in his mind; he wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't push him, if provoked.

"You want to bet on that?"

He didn't, but he nodded in spite of himself.

She sighed. "You don't even know me, and yet you seem to know me too well," she murmured. Her shoulders slumped, but the icy mask that was her face did not waver.

"You going to drive?" Torn asked pointedly.

She nodded, and was silent as she started the hovercar. "I guess… I guess it'll be okay if you come along," she murmured.

But of course it wasn't. She wanted to do this by herself, to avenge Natasha's death. She didn't blame Torn; it was Halland who had truly killed them. The Children of Fire and Ice were dead, and there was nothing left but anger.  
_  
Natasha.  
_  
They were miles above the city now, and the air was getting harder to breathe. Ashelin pressed a button, and the roof of the Hellcat came up over their heads to form a bubble full of clean air.

Torn wanted to speak, but he didn't see what there was to say. He thought of what the two of them had done only hours ago, and his heart tightened in shame. Losing control.

They looked at each other only once. The corners of Ashelin's mouth were taut in effort not to cry. Torn felt his soul breaking.

_Our mistake._

……………………………………………………………….

The desert was exactly the same as it had been when they had left it only a few weeks ago. The dunes were tall and gleaming in the golden morning light. The rocky sentinels, scattered around near the cliffs, weathered the constantly blowing sand steadily. There were few plants and animals. A brave, tall cactus stood at nearly twelve feet. Ashelin ran it over with a smack. Moist shards of the cactus were coated with sand before they hit the ground.

"What'd you do that for?" Torn snapped. "That cactus was probably a hundred years old!"

"Because I felt like it," she snapped. "It's what I'd like to do to Halland."

"You do know that Halland is probably dead?" Torn asked cautiously, prepared for an explosion of her temper.

She didn't blow up as he expected her to. She merely nodded. "I wish I could believe that," she murmured. "It's just that, I have to know. I have to be sure that that… monster… can't hurt anyone else."

"But was it really Halland's fault?" Torn asked. "I mean, wasn't it Wendel that started all this?"

"It was my father that started all this," Ashelin said with contempt. "But I can't hardly kill him, now can I?"

Torn shrugged. "You could. He would deserve it. Think of it as an eye for an eye. He's caused the death of thousands… including your mother." He didn't want to add that Baron Praxis had been, indirectly, the cause of Natasha's death, because then it would look like he was trying to shift the blame from himself. It was only the truth, though.

Ashelin shook her head. "I can't," she said softly. "He may have had his own wife killed, but I won't kill my own kin. I'm not like him."

_Honorable._

………………………………………………………………………………..

The hours seemed to drag on as they flew over the desert. Torn realized he was only armed with his pistol. "Damn!" he shouted, banging his fist against the seat.

Ashelin looked at him mildly. "Yes?"

"I only have my pistol," he explained, somewhat embarrassed at his outburst. He was not one for shows of emotion. Ashelin just seemed to bring out the worst in him.

"Ah…" she murmured absently. She was busy checking to see how much fuel they had left.

"What's the fuel level at?" Torn asked.

"85 capacity," she said. "Plenty left, and if we get a chance we could even refuel at Spargus City."

"Where?" Torn asked, puzzled. He had never heard of any other city except Haven City and the Bahzre Fortress.

"It's a Wasteland City," Ashelin said. "You've never heard of it?" She sounded surprised.

Torn shook his head. "Where is it?"

"Oh, miles and miles west," she said airily. "You can't even see it from the air – although I think you can from the cliff."

"Ah," Torn nodded.

Their chat from then on was civil, overly courteous, about mundane topics neither one of them had any interest in. It was a peace treaty, but it was straining. They were both trying to avoid talking about the thing that needed to be talked about: themselves. And their will was breaking.  
……………………………………………………………………..

The Fortress was gone, only a crater left where it had once stood in terrible glory. Within the crater, though, were the tops of what appeared to be tunnels. "The Catacombs," whispered Ashelin. "That's where the priests will have taken refuge."

Torn made the Sign against evil – a cross with a line through it – a six-pointed star. "We have to go in there?" he said gruffly, trying to hide the quaver in his voice. Everyone knew that the Catacombs were the home of the Precursors, and that they were guarded by the most terrible and powerful of the Precursor technology. 

Ashelin nodded. "Yeah. And just remember—you're the one who wanted to come along." She began to lover the Hellcat. "They won't come out – Halland and his men are too cowardly for that. They'll think we're part of the KG Army, back to finish the job." A small smirk twisted her features.

Torn tried to mask his unease as she took off over the side of the Hellcat. He swallowed hard, and followed her into the black depths.


End file.
